Autumn

What is the feel of autumn? The canyon color is at its’ peak right now.  I've spent more time in this canyon this year, than any other year; by far.  It has all been either painting or hiking.  Possibly the record snow fall is accountable for the blaze of colors, splendid oranges, glorious reds and unearthly yellows.   At times I've hung my head in wonder at the beauty of it all, especially when I have tried to put it to canvas.  I know the color of autumn; I know the smell of autumn as well.  Today I put the brushes away, hid the hiking boots, instead I grabbed the four weight, a box of dries, a DMD and off I sped.  As I strung the rod streamside, sitting in the warm sun enjoying a slight breeze touch my face, I realized why I fish, why I’m afflicted with this disease.  I realized I didn’t even need to catch a trout. I still don’t.   “What is the feel of autumn?” I don’t mean tactile, I mean emotionally. To me it is a beginning.  Even though it may be the beginning of the end, nature seems alive. Every living thing seems bent on being alive, totally and thoroughly alive.  Just as I was; standing in the cold water.  What is the feel of autumn? It feels like a cutthroat.